Stagging the Flower
by juicyfruity
Summary: Is it really James's fault if he's so awesome that people mistake it as conceit? No, not really. Witty, sarcastic, tempermental Lily Evans rolls her pretty little green eyes at him at every single possible chance... is stagging the flower possible? RR.


**Stagging the Flower**

_Chapter One - Mild Flirtations... it's an everyday thing_

James Potter sniggered soundly to himself, feeling pleased and smug about another of his genius plans... but what else was new? He could barely control his amusement and giddiness, so he firmly clapped his palm over his mouth, hoping to stifle his abrupt girly-like giggling of delight. Careful not to disturb his sleeping and snoring neighbors trapped in another world far far away, he serenely ripped some of his parchment off his notes, tried his best to scribble some legible words on it, wadded it into a small ball using his long, thin fingers, and aimed it toward his absolutely _favorite_ target of all times--Lily Evans.

Ahh, this was definitely _the _life.

He could die the next second and be perfectly happy because he knew he'd leave this Earth ecstatically happy and feeling completely infinite.

I guess this is what you could call the "highlight" of James's day. Or "days". Nailing her right in the middle of her head... it was trivial and juvenile, far below the expectations of what a Marauder should accomplish, but James knew Lily better than anyone--the slighest disturbance would send her into a fit of fury and nothing could get much better than this. James had perfected his throw, so each time he aimed, the result was a perfect hit. Hours of practice were sacrified to become an expert striker, but Quidditch practices helped his aim as well, since James was _was_ the "Star Chaser" of the beloved Gryffindor Quidditch team.

She whipped her head around and growled in a malevolent manner, a look that would send even the toughest dragon whimpering off, but even though James was used to her staring daggers at him, he still cowered a bit as she narrowed her eyes menacingly and watched smugly. She always knew how to deal with him. She practiced her malicious look in the mirror every morning, exercising it to become even more hostile with each passing day, prepared for another annoying attack by James Potter, _the_ renowned Marauder of Hogwarts... next to Sirius Black, of course.

Smirking, she turned around and faced Professor Flitwick, feeling like she had won the game of their usual 'who-is-bigger-and-better-than-who'.

Lily: 1, James: 0.

And that is how the score shall always remain; Lily on top and higher, James on the bottom and lower. She smiled complacently to herself. She _lived_ for James's cowers.

"...and that is how this sleeping charm works," Professor Flitwick stated grandly, motioning toward the board, filled with intricate and strategic equations. "The proof is all here. Now, this is a _very_ complicated charm because the victim will be asleep for about five hours..."

Another crumpled ball of parchment hit Lily.

James Potter had just crossed the line.

Lily turned around, preparing to whip out her wand and hex him into oblivion until she saw him mouthing the words 'wait'.

"What!?" she mouthed back impatiently. Whatever the fuck was delaying her hexing James would have to be something _damn_ good or his ass would be hers.

"Open it," he directed.

"This?" Lily asked, motioning toward the ball.

"Yes."

Lily opened it and smoothed out the piece of parchment on her desk; carefully squinting her eyes to make out the barely legible scrawl that whom she knew belonged to the very _bane_ of her existence.

_ To: Lily Evans, Master and Perfector of the Evil Eye._

_ Oh my little flower, my little, little flower... how that glare you shoot me sends the chills down my spine... I wonder how you so amazingly perfect your perfect malicious face, love. I just wanted threw the parchment at you to get your attention... not annoy you. Why would I ever want to annoy you?_

_ Sadly, that's the only exciting thing that's happened in this Charms class. Sirius has fallen asleep on my shoulder and no one to prank with._

_ Yours Truly (and I do mean it),_

_ James Potter_

Lily stared at the parchment with a puzzled look first... then an amused grin on her face. In a situation like this, she knew _exactly_ what the hell to do. This was her craft, her odd specialty... she was the master of comebacks, annoyance, and debonair flair that could never be mistaken to anyone else's but hers.

Holding the top edge of the paper, she pointed the tip of her wand to the bottom page of the parchment and muttered something. The paper immediately caught fire and within seconds, ashes appeared in her hands. Bringing her palms chin-level, she inhaled deeply and blew the remnants of the letter right into James's face. Kowing that she had _definitely_ won this one, she raised an eyebrow and promptly flipped him off, then turned around, and rested her chin on her fist as she began attentively absorbing in Professor Flitwick's lecture.

Oh how she just _loved_ situations like this!

Lily: 2, James: 0.

But what was making her wonder... why was James starting to pass her notes about random nothings and no insults in the middle of class? Professor Flitwick didn't even have to dismiss the class; Lily rose and people knew it was time to leave.

&&&&&

There was a social standing at Hogwarts, just like there would be at any other school. The eye-pleasing, beautiful, social, and not to mention _rich_ ones remained champions on top... while the vertically challenged, quiet, and bookish ones remained at the bottom... just like it always had been. Lily Evans was somewhere in between, leaning toward the top. Her good looks _did_ come in handy sometimes when she was after something she wanted, but for the most part she was just cynically sarcastic girl who never had a steady boyfriend. The sport players (in this case, _Quidditch_ players) always reigned on top, smiling and being admired from the bottom. Of course there was another exception besides being good at a sport: the trouble makers. Oh, yes... the Marauders.

Amid the verbal and somewhat physical war that had just broke out, Sirius Black, another notorious menace, awoke from his peaceful slumber daintily. He lifted his head up and rubbed his eyes, suddenly aware that all his classmates were fumbling with their quills, parchment, and whatnot into their bags and leaving the room hurriedly to lunch.

He turned to his right, expecting James to be there and was just about to ask him what the hell Flitwick was talking about during his _boring_ lecture... but James was gone. Sirius looked around, confusedly, and he caught a glimpse of his retreating silhouette, scurrying to leave.

"Dammit," Sirius cursed under his breath, grabbing all his belongings in sight and shoving it into his bag, preparing to catch up with him.

"What was _that_ about?" Sirius asked indignantly, running after James and demanding to know what was up with the sudden leave of absence while fixing rubbing his eyes and running a hand through his matted hair, and running after James. "Oh, let me guess--Lily. I can't believe I fell asleep when Lily shot you another death glare. Seeing your reaction to her is so bloody hilarious, I can't believe I missed out. Damn."

Feeling left out and clueless was something that Sirius _hated_. He had to be included in just about everything.

"Believe me, it was nothing out of the ordinary," James muttered, "I just threw a parchment at her and she totally flipped out. She threw my parchment at my forehead and rolled her eyes at me! God I _hate_ when she pulls that shit." He grimaced along with Sirius, who was recalling the past memory of Lily and her 'death glares'. "It drives me crazy."

Sirius grinned. "You _do_ know you love her. She also loves saying that to you. You guys are _such_ a pair; you _almost_ seem like a couple."

Now it was _James'_ turn to roll his eyes. He smacked Sirius on top of the head, hoping to smack some sense into his redundant pal. "Me and Lily? Come _on_, man... you know _nothing_ will ever happen with her. She thinks that I think that I'm the shit and apparently, that twit's turned off by it." James rolled his eyes. "Plus, haven't you noticed? She's a fucking psycho, man. **Psycho**. She burned my letter in class today. Who the hell does that? And I _hate_ her red hair. She would be much more lovely with blonde hair."

"The sourer the lemon, the sweeter the juice," Sirius quoted philosophically.

"What the hell?"

Sirius shrugged. "It sounded cool."

James rolled his eyes.

"But you've got to admit, Evans is _kind _of... well, good-looking. The red hair suits her. Blonde would clash with her complexion."

James made a fake gagging nose. "You've got to be shitting me, Sirius."

"No, indeed I'm not. Anyways, is that the reason your face looks a bit charred?"

"...what?"

Sirius magicked a mirror and showed James his reflection. "Looks like you washed your face in dirt."

"FUCK HER! What the HELL is wrong with her, Sirius?! Ahhhhhhhhhh!" James screeched, aggravation starting to take over. Another bad side of James: he was too aggravated... probably because the poor boy doesn't get enough sleep with, what the Quidditch practices and loads of homework. And you know what they say... people who skip naps _tend_ to get just an eensy bit cranky. James was one who skipped _lots_ of naps, what with all the practices and junk he had going on... so to sum it up: James has no patience whatsoever.

"Where... the... hell... are... my... tissues..." James muttered. He fished it out messily through all the junk littered in his bag as scattered pieces of who-knows-what fell out. One of who who-knows-whats: a used tissue fell out.

Sirius wrinkled his nose in disgust, noting the used tissue, as he carefully took the crumpled piece of paper. "Blimey, that's disgusting."

"No wonder, this is _your_ bag," James said, smacking his forehead. "And I thought why my bag had so much junk and crap inside it."

"I'm a packrat, so what? This shit to me is like my first born," Sirius retorted haughtily.

"Funny how you call your firstborn 'shit'," James observed, amusedly as he handed the crumpled ball to Sirius.

"I call everything shit," Sirius shrugged. "It's my _thing_. Just like being sexy, cool, and bloody brilliant. And thanks."

Sirius snorted.

"Sorry, but 'tis what I do best," Sirius answered solemnly. "Plus I doubt she even gives a damn. She thinks you're too conceited."

"Conceited?" James blubbered indignantly. "Conceited!? Is it my fault that I am so _awesome_? Uh, _no_!"

Sirius grinned. "Yeah, buddy, you're not conceited."

"I know! I wonder what _she's_ getting high on."

"Don't know, don't care," Sirius shrugged. "When have we ever?"

"Truer words have never been spoken," James grinned.

&&&&&

A thin layer of transparent liquid coated just about everything in sight. The vivaciously green blades of the grass sparkled iridescently, the pink roses glowing with beads of rain scattered evenly amongst themselves, and the smell of the rain lingering as the wind blew past. It was _his_ favorite kind of weather... as it was hers. The daunting clouds drifting gloomily in the sky proved the dreaded and sheer coldness of this world. But then the sun always came out, masking the harshness of reality... just like adolescence did.

The sound of a door slamming broke Lily out of her thoughts and broke her gaze from outside. She smiled.

"You scared me," Lily said simply, stating the obvious.

"Let's just say I like to make an entrance... you know me," Arabella Figg replied smoothly. Her dark, black hair was damp and her makeup was a bit runny. "I hate the fucking rain."

"I love it," Lily murmured, looking back out the window. "So what happened with you?"

"Nothing much," Arabella replied, dumping all her stuff on her bed and taking off her coat. "I took a walk after class and it started pouring."

"You took... just a walk?" Lily asked, raising an eyebrow curiously.

"Just a walk," Arabella answered firmly. "So, what about you?"

"Fucking Potter," Lily muttered, shaking her head.

Arabella laughed, knowing already what their conversation was steering into. "Annoying you again, huh?"

"How did you know?" Lily asked sarcastically. "But I know it's partly my fault because I love to annoy him back. Sometimes I think it's why I exist -- to bug the living hell out of that turd."

"Ah, engaging in those mild flirtations again, are we, Miss Lily?" Arabella noted wisely.

"Just an everyday, little thing," Lily answered lightly, partly shrugging. "He is _so_ conceited."

"Totally." Arabella nodded.

"Like."

"Uh, _yeah_."


End file.
